The aegis & intelligencer. [volume] (Bel Air, Md.) 1864-1923, 1887-11-04
miscellaneous.
THEY RAN AWAY.
BY REBECCA HARDING DAVIS.

in queer way, different from any American
girl, though she was an American.
Among the mountains in Pennsylvania
there are two or three ancient German
towns, founded long before the Revolution,
by the Moravians. The huge, massive stone
buildings stand still-and are likely to stand
for centuries--in which the early communi-
ties dwelt together, yet separate There are
the Brother and Sister Houses, and the Gem
elm, or Common House. These are occupied
now by the widows of Moravian missiona-
ries with their children.
There is deadly quiet and chilly cleanli-
ness about the great dwellings. Each little
suite of family rooms opens out into wide
stone corridors, in which no speck of dust is
allowed to remain. A fly would hardly dare
10 enter the open windows TO disturb that
absolute order and silence.
My Aunt Maria was the only daughter of
one of these widows. She had never known
any other home than the huge Sister House,
where life went on like clock that moved
without ticking.
She rose at dawn, and helped her mother
put their three neat rooms into still more
perfect order. Then she ate her breakfast and
was washed for the second time her f1axen
hair was plated behind, and tied with bow
of brown ribbon; then, books in hand, the
demure little maiden paced across the green
quadrangle TO the school where all the
children of the church were taught When
school was over, she sat with her knitting by
her mothers side She never had ventured
into the quiet street alone.
On rare occasions the children in the COM
munity houses played hide-and-seek in the
attics which ran under the roef around the
three sides of the great square. These pro-
t,FNt Al
disorderly by the grave widows.
But Maria had one adventure in her life
which rose out of it, as the peak of Teneriffe
does out of the flat ocean around it. When
she was ten years old, she ran away How
it ever came about no body ever knew. Maria
herself least of all. 1t may have grown out
of a temporary insanity, the reaction from
the long dullness and quiet.
John FIeitag, the widow Freitag's son,
persuaded her into it. He told her of the
plan hundred times, on the way home from
school. Some of the town boys told him of
il; it was an every.d day matter to them.
When old Gottfrey Sohner started to the
next settlement, about five miles down the
valley, his wagon loaded down with great
bags of corn, the boys would hide among the
topmost sacks, and there lie safely until the
end of the journey was reached. Godfrey
was good-humored old man, and, after
grumbing little, always brought them back
in the empty wagon before night-fall.
The idea grew, week after week, in the
little girls mind, under her dull eyes and
smooth plaits, and at last she suddenly de-
clared that she would go and "see the world"
One morning in September, after Maria
and John had gone into the school and hung
up their wraos, they took them down again,
walked slowly out of the door, and down the
the street to the inn yard. Even in running
away, they did not hurry; they did not
know how 10 hurry. In the yard stood
Sohner's great wagon, heaped with sacks.
Nobody was near, and they climbed up and
hid in the holows on the top. Presently the
mules were brought out and harnessed, Colt.
frey climbed up and cracked his whip, the
great mass shook and rocked, and they were
off.
My aunt always told me that she was
not afraid She forgot her mother, and
that she was committing horrible sin, ac-
cording to the rules that she had been
taught.
at was all SO strange and beautiful" she
used to say, "the clouds rushing past us over.
head, the moving procession of trees, the
strong wind-1 was wild could have
shrieked for joy.
bulent heart under her brown cape.
Both the children soon fell asleep, being
unused to the steady rocking motion. When
they awoke the sun was overhead. Could
Gottfrey have spent four hours in driving
five miles? Could he be going further than
usual? They whispered TO each other in
alarm, but there was no way of finding the
real situation. John had never made this
desperate venture before, and therefore knew
none of the landmarks. They dared not let
Gottfrey know that they were there until
the journey was over, or he might abandon
them on the road. Who knew what wild
beasts inhabited these jungles of laurel
through which they drove.
Noon passed. Gottfrey stopped to bait his
mules, and 10 eat hearty meal out of his
well-packed basket. The children had
brought no food. They were hearty eaters,
who never had waited ten minutes for their
midday meal. The smell of Sohner's ham
and cheese melted their hearts. They be-
gan at once to think Of the misery of their
mothers and to she tears of remorse.
need not dwell on their sufferings, which
were real enough before the journey was
over.
Gottfrey drove down to Philadelphia The
trip occupied two days and TWO nights. The
children did not discover themselves. Their
terror of being abandoned outweighed all
their other fears.
Gottfrey stopped over night at roadside
inns, leaving the wagon in the yard, and
John clambered down, when all was still,
and found some turnips in neighboring
field, which kept the little wanderers from
actual starvation.
On the morning of the third day, Gottfrey
started long before light, and at dawn drove
into a wide enclosure, in which were great
houses made of canvass. The end had come
Now they could show themselves. He
would be angry, perhaps. But he would not
leave them He would take them homel
He embarrassed the mules and led them
away, rs they supposed to feed them. Then
he would return to unload the corn, and